Into The Wild
by CastleHeart24819
Summary: I thought we needed some of Moriarty's backstory/childhood. So here. Have it. Warning for abuse and I guess you could say implied drug use. Please enjoy! Rated M to be safe. And I don't even know about the genres. Please tell me if I should change them. Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock


"You're worthless. You'll never amount to anything." Jim cowered in the corner of the kitchen and winced as his father pulled out the belt and beat him again.  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" He didn't even know what he was sorry for. For being born? For existing? It didn't make any sense. He went to school, did his work, got good grades, behaved well, took care of himself and his things, and did his chores. But his father drank until he didn't know left from right, then beat him relentlessly, and his mother hid away for fear of being beaten if she took action. But this time was different. His father was cold sober, and still whipped him with the metal buckle of the belt even though he had done nothing wrong. Jim looked up with salty tears flooding his eyes as his mother came running from the other room.  
"Stop it, stop it! You can't do this! I've had enough!" She grabbed his arm, and the man whirled around and smacked her across the cheek, leaving a large red welt. She fell to the floor, looking up at him like a lost puppy.  
"Get out, or I'll turn on you." She ran away, but the beating stopped. Jim's father retreated to another room, leaving the teenager alone. He stood up, and made one impulsive decision. He ran out that door without a second thought, and ran until he couldn't breathe or see straight. He had been a victim of abuse since the day he could remember being alive, and he'd never had the nerve to stand up to his father. But now he was thinking, why should he have to deal with this? What did he do to deserve a life like this? He ran to the outskirts of the town, and fell asleep behind a large brick building. When he woke up, a girl was standing over top of him, looking at him with question in her eyes. Jim blinked, and backed away slightly. The girl was sixteen, his age. She could see his fear, so she backed off and instead sat down beside him, still eyeing him curiously.  
"Are you alright?" Her voice held genuine concern. The boy looked her over. She had long, light brown hair that fell around her face, pale skin, and sea green eyes. She wore simple blue jeans, a plain blue tank top and a pair of ordinary black boots. She looked like the kind of girl that didn't really have a home, and stayed with the odd crowd. But underneath it all, she was a child of injured innocence, but still true and unafraid of toil.  
"I'm fine." Jim said groggily.  
"No, you aren't. What happened to you?" She lifted up one of his arms tenderly, inspecting the welts and scars. He yanked it away instinctively, not used to physical contact that wasn't violent. But part of him regretted pulling away. This girl had a gentleness, and it seemed as though he were lucky to have seen that side of her. The boy could see frustration and untrust bubbling up inside of her as though out of habit. But, to his surprise, her face softened and she stayed patient.  
"Nothing." Well, that was an obvious lie, but he wasn't about to blurt out his life to girl he didn't even know.  
"You're not from around here. Do you want me to get you on a bus home?" The fist sentence was said with the tone of a matter-of-fact statement. Her second sentence, however, was said somewhat reluctantly, and as if she were talking to a five-year-old who had lost his mother.  
"Home? I don't have a home, and I'm sure as hell not going back where I came from." He blurted out, angry at the reminder of the life he left behind. The girl eyed him strangely, unsure.  
"Are you sure? I think your parents will worry."  
"You think my parents will worry? That's rich. They don't give a damn. A good parent doesn't stand by scared senseless while the other one beats their child until a shirt can't hide all the bruises." Jim yelled suddenly. Then he shyed back down, blinking the mist out of his eyes. The girl tentatively reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder. At first he tensed up, but then he relaxed, and didn't jerk away. She produced a sympathetic look, before giving him a small smile.  
"So, you don't have a home, huh?" She tried to sound sad for him, but their was a hint of hope in her voice. Jim sighed.  
"No, not really." Her tiny smile spread into a grin, and she stood up, holding her hand out for the boy. He placed his hand in her smaller one, and she yanked him up. She was stronger than she looked.  
"I think you should come with me." She started jogging away, dragging Jim behind. They had gone nearly three blocks before she turned around and said,  
"Oh, and by the way, I'm Amelia Arow." She smiled.  
"Jim Moriarty." They awkwardly shook hands, and Amelia laughed, which sounded like the tinkling of bells. She turned back around to look where she was going, slowing down slightly. They darted between buildings and alleys, and finally they came upon an old stone structure that looked as if it were built somewhat recently but abandoned. Adeline opened the door cautiously, looking around before they entered. There weren't any lights on, only candles burning dimly in every other room. Jim could see dark huddled figures in the floor and on various broken peices of furniture. Some were talking quietly, others were deathly silent. Jim looked around warily.  
"This is where you live?" He whispered, afraid to break the silence.  
"Yes and no. I mean, I sleep here when I can make it back before morning, but I live wherever I can." He scrunched up his face in thought as they walked up creaking wooden stairs. They made a left turn onto a door and Amelia opened it up, dragging him inside. It was a small room with one bed, an old bookshelf, and a table. She threw herself on the bed, making the metal frame creak. Jim stood with his arms at his sides, still not entirely sure of what to do until Amelia rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her. She leaned over and lit a candle on the small table as the boy sat down. He cleared his throat, breaking the silence.  
"Nice place." Amelia laughed.  
"Yeah, sure. I know it's not what you're used to, but you'll have to get used to it real fast if you don't want to go back home." Jim nodded, but hearing her voice again made him stop and wonder.  
"Your voice... You aren't from England. You're American." Amelia nodded. "Did you come here with your family and then leave them?"  
"No. I came here without them." Jim blinked in surprise.  
"But how?"  
"I have my ways." She winked at him, and then Jim frowned.  
"So you really don't have a home." She sighed.  
"No, but I'm not going back." Her tone told him to not talk about it any more, so he just turned away. Amelia sighed. "Come on, lay down. You should get some rest." She curled up on her side, soon falling asleep. Jim layed down on his back, staring at the ceiling. Soon enough, he fell asleep, too.

If convenient, review. If inconvenient, review anyway. - CH


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